HeartShaped Box
by Red Roses2
Summary: Prequel to Better Than Me. PiccoloxGohan. Gohan's started puberty. The Cell Games are coming closer. Gohan feels like he'll die before he's kissed. Piccolo wants to make him feel better. But what happens when an egg is the result?
1. Chapter 1

Red Roses2: Hey again. This is the prequel to That Look. I might change That Look's title, to what I'm not sure yet. Again, Piccohan. This is my first smut scene ever, so cut me some slack, keep in mind that Piccolo IS an alien and thus has different biology from us humans, and give constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. If I did, this would be in the anime, no?

Heart-Shaped Box

I hover in meditation. The sound of the waterfall relaxes me. I try not to think about the upcoming battle with Cell. Goku said that there was no sense in worrying about it, but I can't help it.

I seem to think that to myself a lot lately. I snort, remembering when I started admitting weakness to myself. I had been wished back to life, and Goku was somewhere out in space after the planet Namek was destroyed. I had visited Gohan as often as I could without wanting to gag at my sentiment. No matter how much I insisted that he could look after himself, I always found myself coming back and taking . . . joy, I think . . . in the grin Gohan would give me. It was then when I realized that Gohan meant everything to me and that my greatest weakness was – no, is – my inability to control myself around him.

I pull myself out of my reverie when I feel Gohan approaching. I furrow the creases where humans would have eyebrows together. What is he doing all the way out here, in the middle of the night?

Gohan touches down close to me. I open my eyes and look at him. His face is scrunched up in a worried fashion. I sense that something is troubling him. It's probably just the Cell Games. I land in front of him.

"Hey, kid," I greet. Gohan smiles weakly at me.

"Hey, Piccolo. I can't sleep. Mind if I hang around a bit?"

I shrug and resume my meditation stance, but I stay on the ground. He starts to talk about whatever light-hearted things come to mind, and I just listen, as always. His voice trembles, and both of us react when it breaks and suddenly moves an octave lower. I open my eyes. Gohan looks horrified, and he grasps his throat. Again, he looks troubled, like he did when he first arrived.

"Has that been happening a lot?" I ask.

A look of shame graces his features, and his face resembles a cherry, even in the starlight. He nods.

"It started happening in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber," he mumbles. I let the subject drop, but I can tell it's bothering him.

"You shouldn't worry about it," I say after a few moments of silence.

"Piccolo?" I grunt to show I'm listening. "Have you ever been kissed?"

My eyes widen, and I can't help but stare at Gohan in complete shock.

"What?" I ask. Why in the _world_ would he ask me _that_ useless question?

Gohan winces at my tone.

"I'm sorry," he rambles; I can hear the fear in his voice. "But we could all die in a few days, and for – for some reason, late at night, that's all I can think about – how I've never – how I'll never - !"

"Don't talk like that!" I snap. "Keep up that kind of thinking and you just might die! _No one_ wants that." I wait for him to calm down for a moment. I watch as he looks more ashamed than he did earlier. "In response to your question, no. I've never been kissed . . . that _is _the thing where people's lips touch the others', right?" Gohan giggles a little, and he nods. I smirk a bit. "Anyway, why would I have been? I'm a martial artist of a different species than everyone else on this planet, and I look like it to boot." I chuckle. I'm not bitter. I'm stating a fact. Then I look at Gohan. I blink. I can't discern exactly what emotion he had, but it looks like . . . hesitancy and . . . yearning? Then shame flashes into his eyes again. He hunches over and hugs his knees.

"D-do you – do you w-want t-to . . ?" Gohan gulps. I tense as I realize where this conversation is going.

"Gohan . . . ." I start, not knowing how to talk about this. "Why?" Why what, I'm not sure myself.

Gohan shifts so that he's on his hands and knees. His cheeks burn red, his ki rises slightly – a sign he's nervous and scared. I suddenly can name the look in his eyes: desire. I've never been on the receiving end of a look like that. I've only ever seen it once, and that was when Goku gave it to Chichi. I don't really know what it means, other than he wants me. But I don't know what that means either.

Gohan bites his lip. He draws a little blood.

"B-because I – I - ," Gohan hiccups, and he starts to cry. His ki rises even more. If he's not careful, he'll wake up his father. He grips the grass, dirt digging under his fingernails. "I love you!"

I stare, dumbfounded. He refuses to look at me now. His tears stain the ground.

"I love you! I love you so much I can't breathe! I'd do anything to be with you! I - !"

I'm not sure when I crashed my lips against his, or why I chose that method (I blame Nail), but I do know why I did it. He needed to stop talking, before he said something he'd regret. But as I move my hand to cradle his head, I'm taken aback by how . . . nice it feels, to have his lips on mine. Gohan is surprised, but after he realizes that he's not dreaming, he nips hungrily at my bottom lip, trying to deepen it . . . the kiss. Cynical thoughts enter my head, berating me on how this was a sign of weakness, but the _sound_ Gohan makes turns my brain numb, stopping all thought.

It's a cross between a groan and a growl, coming from the bowels of his throat. It's laced with want and need, desire and urgency.

It scares me.

I pull him away, just so that our lips aren't touching anymore.

"G-Gohan?" I silently curse the break in my voice. Gohan looks up at me, a flood of emotions flowing through his eyes, drowning me in my own confusion . . . and want. A shiver runs up my spine as I realize I want to hear Gohan make that sound again.

What is this selfish monster inside me? I'm not supposed to feel this way. I'm a Namek. I'm asexual . . . right? Besides, he's eleven. That's really young for humans and Saiyans. He shouldn't be . . . I shouldn't be . . . . Just because I want to doesn't mean I can . . . .

"_Piccolo_," Gohan breathes, leaning forward. I raise my hand, holding it between our lips. My fingertips brush his lips. Another shiver runs up my spine.

He looks at me questioningly. I open my mouth to . . . apologize, I guess. But that's not what comes out.

"Was that all right?"

He nods, still looking breathless. An image of Goku and Chichi kissing suddenly enters my mind; why that _disturbing_ memory decided to rear its ugly head is unknown to me.

"Isn't there something I'm supposed to do with my tongue?"

. . . . _Why did I just say that!?_

Gohan blushes and nods.

"I . . ." he says, voice as silent as the wind around us. He lowers my hand as he talks. "I think it goes . . ." His lips move closer to mine. "like this." Our lips touch again, and he runs his tongue over my mouth. I shiver for the third time in a row, involuntarily opening my mouth.

Gohan apparently takes that as an invitation to plunder my mouth with his tongue.

I try to push him away and tell him I didn't appreciate that, but then he brushes his tongue over a sensitive spot. Heat engulfs the back of my throat. It's so sudden I almost push Gohan away for fear I was regurgitating fire. Then I realize I like the feeling. A lot.

I make a sound I will deny I ever made for as long as I exist. I fist my hand in Gohan's hair, and I pull the boy up against me, trying as hard as I can to force his tongue down my throat. Gohan makes that groan/growl again, opens his mouth wider, trying to comply to my unsaid demand. He straddles my waist and runs his tongue against another sensitive spot.

I'm so wrapped up in what this boy was doing to me that I barely notice the heat coming from Gohan's crotch area. The heat radiated onto my stomach. I ignore it, until his crotch pokes me.

I pull him away, and Gohan looks at me through half-lidded confused eyes. Then he seems to realize he has an unexplained issue. He slowly looks down at his crotch. His face turns cherry red again, and he literally jumps off me.

"I'm sorry!" he yelps. Shame screams in his eyes. "I don't know why it happens! It started in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber! I'm sorry!" He hunches over, trying to hide the protrusion in his pants. I don't know what to say. He looks so scared and ashamed. I've never seen him quite like this before. The heat in my throat suddenly escalates. Then I get an idea.

"Gohan, it's okay." I smile at him. He looks doubtful. "I think it's just your sex drive. You're just becoming an adult." Gohan stands up a little straighter.

"Really?" Hope glitters in his eyes.

"Yeah, really." I lick my lower lip. "Want some help with making it go away?"

Gohan blushes, and his breathing hitches.

"H-How are you going to do that?"

I smirk. "I have an idea." I walk over to him. The heat in my throat is driving me mad. _Something_ needs to be deep in my mouth. _Now._ I pull him towards me and, through a fluid motion, lay him on the grass, underneath me. I brush my hand over his crotch, just to make sure I was hypothesizing correctly. Gohan yelps and involuntarily thrusts forward. He's cherry-red again. I do it again, just in case. He mewls like a needy cat. A grin spreads across my face; I have no idea where this sadistic beast came from, because it's nothing like anything I've ever become before. I tug at his belt, untying the knot.

"W-what are - ?" Gohan asks. I shush him, lean forward and whisper what I'm planning to do in his ear. Gohan groans and tosses his head back. I grin against him and pull back. I ease his pants off his hips. I bite back a grunt of amusement at the sight of his pubic hair. Humans. I shouldn't laugh at him. He can't help it that his body produces hair.

I slip his pants off until they're bunched up around his knees. Apparently, Chichi hadn't had time to shop for more underwear for him, seeing that he had out-grown his ten-year-old ones. I have to bite my lower lip hard in order to keep myself from laughing. His penis looks like it's an oversized parasite or caterpillar. I suppose mine would, too, if it wasn't green.

"Piccolo?" Gohan asks. I look up at him. He looks nervous. "Is something the matter?" I swallow my laughter and blood.

"No. Are you ready?" Gohan nods.

I lower my head, open my mouth, and plunge his length into my throat.

My brain feels like it exploded into a thousand fragments. Pleasure washes over me, threatening to suffocate me. Gohan yelps and thrusts his lips, pushing his cock deeper into my throat. I moan around him. The act causes him to make that erotic groan/growl. I run my tongue across his cock. He thrashes under me, moaning and trusting. I dig my nails into the ground, not wanting to hold the boy back. I hear Gohan yelling my name as I lightly clench his cock. Somehow, we find a rhythm, me plunging deeper when he thrusts harder. I can't think coherently anymore. I can't even imagine what it's like for Gohan, a being who's _supposed_ to have sex to reproduce. I shudder erotically at the thought, my shiver having an effect on Gohan.

"Pi – Picco – _lo!_"

Suddenly, liquid fills my mouth, and I have to pull away. Before I sit up all the way, I notice that I instinctively swallowed . . . whatever Gohan just put in my mouth. I look at him. The boy is breathing heavily, face flushed, sweat rolling down his forehead. He unclenches his fists, letting go of the grass he had in a death grip. The plant fragments shatter like glass. The vegetation hadn't stood a chance.

"I guess you liked that," I say. He nods.

"I – liked it – a lot. Did – you?" Gohan says between breaths.

I smile.

"Yeah. I did."

Gohan smiles, everything that he is embodied in that one act.

"I'm glad. Thank you."

He closes his eyes, and his breathing evens out. I slip his pants back on and tie his belt back.

At least he wouldn't be worrying about being kissed before he died.

I sit next to him, like I had before our . . . sexual activities, and resume my meditation, only to be interrupted again.

"What, Goku?"

Goku lands and lets out a relieved sigh.

"Good. He's with you. His ki woke me, and I was scared he was in danger, with how his ki was fluctuating."

I remain quiet and eerily still, even for me. How much energy had Gohan been giving off?

"But what's he doing out here?" Goku asks, an innocent questioning look on his face, the blond spikes framing his face.

"He needed someone to talk to," I say, being half truthful. Just because Gohan was Goku's son didn't mean I was going to tell the Saiyan I just finished fucking the boy senseless.

Goku smiles at me, completely unaware of what I did to Gohan . . . what Gohan did to me . . . what he begged me to do. "You're a very good friend to him." You have no idea, Goku. You have no idea. "Thanks for looking after him. Mind if I take him home?"

"He's your son. Why are you asking permission? Just do me a favor."

Goku blinks.

"A favor?"

I smirk. "Tell him it really happened, that it wasn't a dream."

Goku raises an eyebrow.

"That what wasn't a dream?"

I don't answer him. I take off into the air intent on meditating more . . . if only to memorize the images and sounds of an aroused Gohan . . . and why it turned me into a sexual beast.

End

For now

Red Roses2: This is also a one-shot until further notice. But I will turn it into a longer story. Again, this is the prequel to That Look.


	2. Chapter 2

Heart-Shaped Box

Part Two

Gohan flies beside me as we, Goku included, advance to the lookout. The boy periodically glances at me, blushes, and looks away.

"You sure you liked it?" Gohan whispers.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"For the sixth time, yes," I reply, keeping an eye on Goku. "In fact," I let a lecherous grin force its way onto my face. "I enjoyed it enough to want to do it again."

Gohan blushes blood red. When I say "blood red", I mean the bright color of fresh blood lacerated from an artery, not anything darker or drier. Somehow, it made him more beautiful that usual.

"R-really?" he breathes, his voice dropping an octave lower in mid-syllable. Embarrassment crawls its way onto his face.

"Really." I say, smirking while I say it.

Goku looks over his shoulder at us. "What's going on back there?"

"Nothing, Dad," Gohan shouts over the wind.

The smile on Gohan's face is the only reason I don't hate myself today. After the sexual feelings went away, I had berated myself repeatedly. Meditation became torture. I had washed my mouth out a total of twenty-six times. It hadn't been until Gohan came back that I forgave myself for taking advantage of him. He had looked nervous, but happy . . . happy that he had been taken advantage of.

I rid myself of those thoughts as we land on the lookout. Goku runs up to Krillin, and Gohan stays lose to me, still blushing.

"Are Vegeta and Trunks out yet?" Goku asks.

"They should be out . . . about . . . now," Krillin says, looking at his watch.

The door to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber opens, and the two "royal" Saiyans emerge. If anyone should be royalty, it's Gohan. Nothing will make me take that statement back, nothing.

"How many more days until the Cell Games?" Trunks asks.

"Two days from now," Yamcha answers.

"So, Piccolo," Tien says, "I guess it's your turn now."

I nod, but as soon as I boy my head, a searing pain shoots up my throat. I grab my throat, eyes widening. Everyone notices, especially Gohan.

"Piccolo? Are you okay?" Gohan asks. I try to open my mouth, to tell him it's all right, but the pain escalates, and I feel my throat expanding. Falling to my knees, I can barely make a sound, let alone a sentence.

Gohan's ki flares, and I feel his hand on my back.

"Piccolo!" Dende cries, rushing over. Whatever is in my throat is crawling its way up. I can't help but open my mouth wider. Dende suddenly screams in delight. "Oh my god! You're having an egg!"

. . . . _WHAT DID HE JUST SAY!?_

I open my eyes to look at Gohan. His lower jaw falls like a guillotine. I feel the stares of the others boring into me. I can't see him, but I can just imagine how Goku looks right now: jaw dropped, eyes as wide as they can get, arms hanging uselessly in front of him. I close my eyes again as another wave of pain hits me. I manage to gurgle a little.

"This is NOT the time to reproduce asexually, Namek!" Vegeta yelled.

Shut UP, Vegetable Breath!

The egg, I guess it is, finally makes its way into my mouth. Unfortunately, most of it is still in the back of my throat. Gohan holds onto my hand and rubs my back a little.

"You can do it, Piccolo," Gohan whispers into my ear.

Yeah, right. I feel like I can't breathe, kid. I shouldn't be mad with him; he's just trying to help. But why the hell is this happening!?

Finally, the white egg pops out of my mouth. My reflexes kick in, and I catch it before it hits the ground. My purple blood drips off of it. In a word, it's grotesque. Dende, however, is giggling like a human school girl.

"This is amazing, Piccolo! But what made you decide to be a parent?" Dende asks, grinning like _he's_ the parent. I glare at the guardian of Earth.

"Nothing. I didn't plan on that happening." I say. Everyone _but_ Dende looks absolutely shocked. Dende, if possible, looks even more gleeful.

"But – but I thought - !" Goku sputters.

"Aren't Nameks - ?" Krillin starts.

"What the hell do you know that I don't, Dende?" I yell at the smaller Namek.

"Nameks _usually_ reproduce asexually, but we are capable of reproducing sexually. How else would we look different? However, few Nameks reproduce that way, which is why there are so few Nameks who look like you and Nail, tall, lean, and muscular with a fighter's spirit. So, who's the lucky Namek?" Dende spouts, looking like he'd like nothing better than to start jumping up and down in excitement.

I say something without thinking: "There isn't another Namek."

_Now_ the Earth's guardian looks surprised. I hear a thud, and I know Mr. Popo had fainted before I even looked over to him.

"Dende, how long does it take to conceive an egg?" Gohan asks. I try not to wince. He's going to end up making it way too easy for someone like Vegeta or Yamcha to figure it out.

"Just a few hours. The egg then incubates in the Namek for another few hours, and then it's released and waiting for all its body parts to develop, and it hatches a few weeks later." Suddenly, Dende got a manic gleam in his eyes. "Do _you_ know who the other father is?"

. . . . What is with Dende and eggs?

. . . . That probably sounded strange.

Gohan turns sunset red and looks down at his feet in embarrassment. Naturally, several people figure it out all at once.

"WHAT!?" Trunks, Krillin, Yamcha, and Tien all shout. Vegeta's jaw drops. Dende squeals. Goku looks confused.

"B-But Gohan hasn't hit puberty yet!" Krillin objects. "He can't be a daddy!" That makes Gohan turn a darker red.

"What's puberty again, Krillin?" Goku asks. Everyone face-faults, including me.

"It's when your body starts producing hair in places it didn't used to before, and when – er – your privates start acting funny," Yamcha explains.

"Saiyans are born with all the hair they'll ever have," Vegeta corrects unhelpfully. "That means we have none of that disgusting pubic hair." At least I'm not the only one with that opinion.

"Whatever!" Yamcha snaps. "The point is Gohan hasn't hit puberty yet!"

"Um . . . ." Gohan mutters. "That's not true."

Had Krillin had hair, he would've pulled it out right then.

"That's impossible! You're too young!" Krillin says.

"Not for half-Saiyans," Trunks corrects, still staring in shock at Gohan and me. "I hit puberty at age ten." Vegeta's entire frame freezes, and he slowly turns towards his son from the future.

"What?" Vegeta snaps, a look of pure terror on his face.

"I can't believe you're a daddy, Gohan," Trunks says, completely ignoring his father.

Gohan refuses to look at anyone, even me. I look at anyone and anything except for the . . . _thing_ in my hands. Why me? Why do _I_ have to be a parent? I don't know the first thing about parenting!

"Congratulations, Gohan!" Dende exclaims, grabbing the boy's hands and dancing him around. "I can't think of a better parent!"

"Um, thank you?" Gohan says, probably unsure about how to handle everything that's just happened. I, the man – the _asexual _man - who fucked him last night, just puked up an egg that has his child in it, with absolutely no warning, and everyone is staring at him like he's the one who puked the egg up. Of course the kid's overwhelmed. _I'm_ overwhelmed. I NEVER WANTED THIS THING! "Piccolo?" I snap out of my inner rant and look at him.

"Er, yes?" I say lamely.

"C-can I hold him?"

I hold the egg at arm's length like it's a bomb. Gohan takes it from me and cradles it in his arms. I look over at Goku, who still looks like he has no idea what to say.

"Um, Goku?" I say rather . . . I refuse to say that I said it timidly, but that's the only word I can think of. Hesitantly, perhaps fits.

"I'm a grandpa?" Goku asks, still looking horribly shocked, more shocked than anyone has ever seen him before, I'm willing to bet.

Slowly, I nod, not really wanting to accept the fact myself.

"I'm a grandpa at twenty-seven?"

"Daddy?" Gohan says cautiously. "You're not mad, are you? I mean," Gohan turns another shade of dark red. "it's not his fault."

All the self-hate and guilt from before sunrise hits me like an energy blast. Kid, do I _have _to remind you exactly _who_ took advantage of _whom_? Of course it's my damn fault!

"Not . . . his . . . ," Goku manages to say before he falls down and faints. Krillin and Yamcha follow close behind. Trunks is still staring at Gohan incredulously. Vegeta hits his forehead with his palm.

I'm _not_ looking forward to when Goku wakes up.


	3. To Be Continued

Heart-Shaped Box

Part Three

I stare at Goku's unconscious form. A million thoughts run through my head. What will happen when he wakes up? Will he go from happy-go-lucky-oh-so-innocent Goku to homicidal-angry-oh-my-god-I'm-going-to-kill-you Goku? Or will he still be in a state of shock? What if he goes and gets his wife? What would she do to me? That's actually obvious; she'd kill me. With that frying pan of hers. The frying pan that leaves dents in Goku's thick skull. The frying pan that haunts Gohan's and Goku's dreams at night. The frying pan that could probably kill Cell if the harpy dared go anywhere near the battlefield. Maybe we should enlist her help in the Cell Games. No, Gohan would kill me for suggesting that.

"Um, Piccolo?" Gohan's quiet voice interrupts my reverie. I look over at him. He's still holding the blood-covered egg, wiping the purple gunk off of it with part of his gi. He looks nervous about whatever is on his mind; we've both been avoiding the others since that . . . thing came out of my mouth. "Do you still want to go into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber? If so, do you want to take the baby with you? Or me go with you? Or . . . something else?"

I feel sweat running down my forehead, and I know my heart rate just accelerated. How the hell was I supposed to answer that? Yes, I wanted Gohan to go in with me. I don't think I want to know what would happen if he didn't, when the others woke up. Trunks looks like he's torn between killing me and yelling at someone – probably Gohan or Goku. Vegeta seems like he's just waiting for the perfect opportunity to rub the egg in Goku's face. Tien is just standing to the side, and has been staring at both Gohan and me for the past twenty minutes. I don't know how well Gohan would be able to face all that alone. However, I don't want that thing near me. Not right now, anyway. I never said I wanted it, and I didn't know it was going to come out. I don't know what to think about it. But Gohan might be hurt if I say any of that. And how would I put any of that into words without sounding like a sentimental weakling?

I sigh.

"The best idea is probably me going in alone. Besides, your father might wake up thinking it's all a bad dream, and he'll be wanting to know where you are when he wakes up."

That sounds safe to say.

Gohan nods in confirmation. Then he holds the egg up.

"Do you want to take him with you?"

I almost stammer my answer. "It might be best if you have it."

Something flashes in Gohan's eyes, but I can't catch it before it's gone.

"Okay. Um, then I guess you should go on ahead."

"Yeah."

I step toward the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. I feel like I should say something else, but I don't know what. Everything that comes to mind is a lie. I remind myself that as much time as I'll feel has gone by won't be what will actually be. Besides, I'll be able to get my thoughts together better. I nod to myself, convincing myself that this is best, that when I come out I can fix everything that's just happened.

I enter the chamber, the brightness blinding me for a second.

"Good luck with your training," Gohan calls after me. I bite my lower lip and draw blood, suddenly feeling like turning around and abandoning the one thing that will help me prepare for Cell.

Cell. Damn, I almost forgot about him. Stupid egg, making me forget.

"Thanks, Gohan," I say, closing the door behind me.

My hand hovers over the doorknob to the chamber. I take a deep breath and remind myself what will probably happen when I open that door. Two humans, two Saiyans, and a half-Saiyan from the future will probably throw ki blasts at me. I have trained my body to withstand something like that, in anticipation that Cell – for completely different reasons – would try the same thing. I also will have to look at the egg again, which was still giving me awkward feelings. And, eventually, I'll probably have to face the harpy.

. . . . I'm not looking forward to the harpy. Not at all.

I open the door, tense and anticipatory. I step out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and wait for the barrage of energy attacks. What I meet, instead, is Vegeta's laughter.

"Shut it, Vegeta!" Krillin retorts. "It's not funny!"

"It's hilarious! As soon as Kakarrott wakes up, his son convinces him to go off and get a _blanket_ for his illegitimate grandchild! It's priceless! You _did_ see the look on Goku's face, right?"

"Damn it, Vegeta!" Yamcha shouts. "Have you forgotten how young Gohan is? Do you even care?!"

"I know what it was like when the woman got pregnant. I'm surprised the boy isn't running in the opposite direction of the egg. Of course, being Kakarrott's kid, I guess he would be the more feminine one of him and his mate!" Vegeta says.

I clear my throat to inform them that I am, indeed, back. They stop their squabbling, and stare at me like I'm the Devil himself. Vegeta smirks.

"So, he finally comes out of there."

"Shut up about Gohan. You have no right to talk about him like that," I snarl, crossing my arms. Vegeta rolls his eyes.

"Oh, by the way, the brat wants to talk to you." Vegeta adds.

Trunks glares at his father and stands up from his sitting position. He walks over to me and looks me straight in the eye. I just stand as still as I usually do, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say.

"I understand that the Gohan from my time and the Gohan here are two different people. But what I didn't really expect was this. I knew that Gohan loved you, but this was . . . unexpected." I blink. So Mirai Gohan loved the Mirai me too . . . . "You better take good care of him _and_ that baby or else I'll come back from the future and do _so_ many terrible things to you you'll _wish_ the androids had killed you in this time period, too."

I'm not entirely sure what I should do, so I just nod. Trunks turns away from me, walks over to where he had been earlier, and sits back down.

I deflect the blast that Yamcha just threw at me. Yamcha grits his teeth and kicks the non-existent dirt on the floor.

"How could you do that!? Gohan's just a kid!" Yamcha yells.

I bare my teeth.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"

Yamcha staggers back. I am fully aware that I suspiciously resemble the old me, the evil me, right now. But I don't care. Seeing the petrified look on Yamcha's face is all I needed to feel slightly better about the situation.

"I'm as new to the idea as anyone else here! So don't tell _me_ what _I _should've done!" Emotions that I don't fully understand pour out of me like a waterfall that broke a dam. The lookout is eerily quiet. Even Vegeta doesn't say anything.

"So . . ." Krillin said, breaking the tense silence. "Piccolo's a mommy?"

Krillin's scream breaks through the air as my energy blast throws him off the lookout.

At that moment, Goku decided to show back up. Goku looks around, wondering where Krillin's scream was coming from. Then his eyes land on me. His eyebrows furrow, and he looks at the floor. I don't say anything, and the uncomfortable silence returns.

"Where's Gohan?" Tien asks cautiously. "Didn't he leave with you?"

"He's with Chichi," Goku answers, not looking up.

As soon as he says that, I notice that there's a slight bump on Goku's head. It was probably put there by her harpy's frying pan.

"You left him alone with an angry harpy?" I say, letting my voice drip with irritability.

Goku looks up at me and a glare pierces through me.

"That angry harpy is the one who will be taking care of your child if anything happens to you, me, or Gohan at the Cell Games." Goku says icily. I didn't know Goku was capable of icy sentences, but apparently, he is.

It's quiet for a few more moments, then Vegeta has to act like the asshole that he is.

"So, Kakarrott, is the baby freak all wrapped up in its blanket? Perhaps you gave it a bath as well." Vegeta chuckles at his own humor. He's the only one.

"Father," Trunks says in a warning tone.

"What? You can't say that it won't look weird when it's hatched. I mean, the kid will probably have green skin and a monkey tail!"

"Vegeta, shut up!"

Everyone stares at Goku. Vegeta closes his mouth.

"Shut up about Gohan! Shut up about my grandson! Shut up about EVERYTHING! No one wants to hear it!"

Goku turns from Vegeta to look at me.

"Gohan wanted me to see if you were out of the chamber yet. Chichi also wants to see you."

Damn it. I knew that was going to happen.

"She has that frying pan of hers at the ready, doesn't she?" I say.

"You bet she does." Goku replies, crossing his arms and looking very non-Goku-ish at the moment.

I sigh and walk over to Goku, placing a hand on his arm.

"Fine."

Goku blinks, and his angry countenance suddenly disappears.

"Really? That's it?"

I glare at him.

"I've lived with you, your son, and that harpy for the three years before the androids arrived. I know what she's like if she has to wait. You, however, can't seem to learn your lesson. So are we going or what?"

Goku nods and puts his index and middle finger to his forehead. We then instant-transmit to the Son residence.

The first thing that happens to me is a bash on the head. Thankfully for me, I still have my turban on.

"YOU MONSTER TOOK AWAY MY BABY'S VIRGINITY!"

Yep, it was the harpy all right. She hits me again, and again, and again. I know it's pointless to block, because she'd just become angrier, but that didn't mean I didn't want to.

"MOM!"

I barely get to focus on Gohan's advancing form before the harpy hits me again. Lights flash before my eyes, and for some reason everything looks purple for a moment.

"MOM, STOP IT! PLEASE!"

When everything goes back to its normal color, I glance over at where Gohan and the harpy stand. Gohan has the frying pan in his hands. Thank God.

"Gohan, he hurt you!" the harpy argues. Odd, Gohan hadn't _acted_ hurt when we . . . .

"No, he didn't!" Gohan retorts, his ki rising. Goku and I tense. Eleven-year-old Super Saiyan whose power rises with his temper getting angry with his mother doesn't sound like a good idea. Even if it _is _the harpy he's angry with.

"Gohan - !"

"I WANTED IT!" Gohan screams. His mother stops all movement. Her jaw drops, and her eyes are wide. Gohan's fists are trembling, like he's trying not to hit her. "He helped me! I wanted help, and he gave it to me! That's all! So stop making such a big deal about it!"

His mother swallows and pulls her arms closer to her, holding her hands like she wants to keep something close to her chest.

"Gohan, you were supposed to get married to a nice girl _then_ have children of your own," she says, looking like she'll start crying any time now.

"Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I never did," Gohan says, barely audible. It's like Goku and I aren't here. But . . . I don't want him to say that. I don't want him to say those things. Someday, he'll regret me. What we've done. He'll regret what he says. I know he will. I'm Piccolo, the Demon King, no matter what I've been doing to protect the earth. No matter how friendly Goku is towards me. No matter how much I care for Gohan. No matter how much Gohan loves me.

Gohan loves me . . . .

I think I'm starting to feel dizzy, and it's not from the bumps on the head.

Red Roses2: This is the last instalment of Heart-Shaped Box. If you want to read more, go to Better Than Me, which used to be titled That Look.


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